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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28179066">Let go</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_question_of_calibration/pseuds/A_question_of_calibration'>A_question_of_calibration</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BDSM, Dom Harry, M/M, Sub Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:40:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28179066</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_question_of_calibration/pseuds/A_question_of_calibration</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco is disinherited, Black family magic let's him find refuge in Grimmauld place. Will he find safety there, or something else entirely?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Shots and floo powder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh come on, Draco, let go a little for once! The war is over, we’re pariahs but alive, and we’ve worked our butts of to get our families’ names out of the gutter for the last half year. Just have some shots like a normal eighteen-year-old,” Pansy said over the loud music in the new, trendy club in Diagon Alley. </p><p>“Excuse me for caring about my reputation in such a public place! everybody already knows you’re a tramp, but I have a reputation to uphold. Father would kill me if I ruin my chances of a good marriage even further.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s right,” Pansy shouted gleefully, “you’re being strutted around in front of a bunch of uptight pureblood matriarchs tomorrow, aren’t you?” She held out the shot glass full of bright orange liquid again, looking like she’d just won the argument.</p><p>Draco sighed, she new him too well. He was not looking forward to tomorrow, or the rest of his foreseeable future to be honest. Feeling like he did deserve to have some fun tonight, as a counterbalance to all his responsibilities, he took the little glass from her. They hooked their arms around each other, like they used to do at the Slytherin parties at Hogwarts, and downed their shots simultaneously.</p><p>It hit him like a blow to the head, as he’d not had time to eat anything after work, where he and the other interns were kept insanely busy with administrative tasks that had them running around all levels of the ministry. Oh, well, he thought, there’s always hangover potion.</p><p>	#</p><p>“Draco, what in Merlin’s name did you do, you idiotic tail end of an inbred grindilow?!” </p><p>Draco tried to open his eyes, but the light was too much for his head, and he tried to remember where his hangover potion would be waiting for him. He could not deal with his father yelling at him without it. He downed it just in time, and was spared the stab of pain the door banging open would have doubtlessly caused him, otherwise. As it was, he tried to look as haughty and disdainful as he could manage, he’d learned not to show any weakness around Lucius years ago, when he replied “I’m sure you’re about to tell me, father”.</p><p>“How do you explain this, son?” Lucius glared at him through narrowed eyes as he thrust this morning’s Prophet in his face.</p><p>Draco swallowed, and suddenly memories of last night came crashing into his mind. Oh Merlin he’d been so drunk and angry at the farce his life had become, he’d let the pretty boy that had been eyeing him up all night kiss him in a dark corner, feeling safe in the shadows. But here they were, splashed out on the society pages in a magically brightened photograph, undulating and obviously using lot’s of tongue, as clearly visible for all to see as if they’d been doing it in the middle of the ministry’s atrium, a speculative piece about his sexuality and the scandal it would be for his family below it. He slowly looked up to his father, bile rising in his throat, his nausea returning as quickly as the potion had made it disappear just seconds ago. He knew he looked guilty.</p><p>His father looked back, disappointment and anger battling for dominance on his stern, aristocratic features, and nodded to himself. “You’re gay, then.” Not really a question.</p><p>His mum had caught up with his dad by now, grabbing his arm to try and calm him down. But Draco could see his mind was made up already, and was expecting it when his father shook her off and grabbed his arm to haul him to the fireplace. “You are no longer an heir to the house of Malfoy,” he spoke solemnly, throwing some floo powder and Draco into the flames. The last thing Draco saw, before he was whipped away, was the look of disgust on his father’s face.</p><p>	#</p><p>Harry was sipping a cup of tea, still in his pyjamas, at the big table in the kitchen of Grimmauld place, enjoying moment of quiet before the hustle and bustle of life with his mismatched set of housemates would begin in earnest. He loved having them around, as he was sure he’d feel even more lost without them. But when the light of dawn was still hesitant to illuminate his yard and kitchen counter, and all the world seemed to need a bit longer to wake up, he could feel a peaceful gratefulness that he was still alive, even though he had no idea what to do with the unexpected opportunity.</p><p>This morning though, it was not his friends coming to look for breakfast that disrupted his time of contemplation, but a noise from the fireplace in the front parlour. Who would come through the floo at this hour? The house was still under fidelius, and most of the people with access to it were already here. Harry quickly ran there, cursing himself for leaving his wand by his bedside, and came to a screeching halt when he saw Draco Malfoy lying on the rug in front of the fireplace, in nothing but tight green silk boxers. However many options had gone through his mind while running to get here, this he could never have guessed.</p><p>They stared at each other for what seemed like minutes, Draco defiantly, and Harry shocked. When Draco started to get up, Harry was on him in a flash, pinning him to the wall with his forearm, asking “What behind the veil are you doing here, Malfoy?” in a rather accusing tone, “How did you even get in here, that’s not even supposed to be possible!”</p><p>It was Draco’s turn to look shocked now, Harry noted, but he couldn’t see why, as they’d been in this position countless time at Hogwarts in the past. Surely he remembered, even though they’d been exchanging reluctant nods when they saw each other since the war was over, and Harry had testified at Draco’s trial. But that was before Draco broke into his house, which was supposed to be his safe space from the world, Jupiter be cursed. That was just not on.</p><p>“I’m not Malfoy anymore,” was all he got out of him, before he went back to silent brooding.</p><p>“What do you mean, you can’t just stop being you,” Harry said, reasonably, in his own, humble opinion.</p><p>“My father threw me out, didn’t he? Officially disowned me, and then the floo dropped me here.” Draco replied, looking around. As he saw the coat of arms above the door, understanding dawned on his face, followed by renewed bewilderment. “Potter, why do you live in the ancestral home of the Black family?”</p><p>Before Harry could answer, Luna, Ron and Dean appeared in the door opening, suddenly falling quiet at the sight before them. Not really understanding why, Harry moved closer to Draco, covering more of his body, which made his arm slip higher, slightly blocking Draco’s airway. He wasn’t about to let go, not nearly satisfied with Draco’s explanation how he got here. When Harry turned his head to tel his friends what was going on, two things happened that made him freeze. First, Draco’s breathy gasp close to his ear, making Harry instantly aware of their very close proximity, and second, a telling twitch under Draco’s thin boxers, easily felt through Harry’s thin pyjamas. On instinct, he pushed his arm down harder again, and sure enough, another gasp and twitch. </p><p>This was too good, he had enough petty spite left for his Hogwarts rival to revel in this knowledge, and his darker side took over, making him step aside. He was suddenly not worried about Draco posing a threat at all, and was going to enjoy this. Sure enough, Draco turned lobster red when he was in full view for Luna, Dean and Ron, erection clearly showing. Interestingly, Harry noted, this didn’t seem to have a negative effect on the conspicuous organ, which gave another twitch.</p><p>“Harry, how long have you been secretly seeing Draco?” Luna asked in her dreamy, innocent voice. Ron gagged, Dean snickered, and Harry promptly went as red as Draco. </p><p>“I haven’t,” he protested, “he just showed up here like this.” Well, not quite like this, Harry amended in his head, there’d been no twitching at first.</p><p>After some chaotic debate, luckily streamlined by Hermione when she arrived downstairs after her morning shower, it was concluded that the Black family magic of Grimmauld place had recognised Draco as a member needing refuge, now that he was no longer a part of the Malfoy family. And wouldn’t that be a pain to get used to, calling Malfoy ‘Black’ all of a sudden, Harry thought. Not gonna happen, it would have to be Draco, which didn’t seem as strange as it should have been, somehow.

Now that Draco was deemed safe, or at least not an immediate threat, and the rather intriguing interaction between the two of them was over, Harry started to return to his default mode since he came back from death: not fully present, like he and the world weren't entirely on the same plain anymore, had gotten disentangled somehow. With his attention once more turned inward, he noticed that his stomach was growling, so he went back to the kitchen to start breakfast, for six instead of five. Not a big deal.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Ground rules</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the others came to join Harry in the kitchen, attracted by the smell of waffles and fresh coffee, Draco was dressed in some of Dean’s clothes. Neither of them looked happy about it, and Harry concurred. He'd definitely preferred Draco as he’d looked this morning to the stiff way in which he now held himself wearing the ill-fitting muggle clothes, his attitude of disdain once again hiding any vulnerability. Dean probably just hadn’t forgiven Draco for the time he and Luna spent in Malfoy Manor’s dungeons, and resented being forced to help him out, forced by Hermione no doubt. Harry could understand that, he didn’t feel all that charitable towards the arrogant git himself, either. But with Hermione around, it was near impossible to get out of doing ‘the right thing’, as she saw it. Harry loved her, he just wasn’t all that invested in right and wrong anymore, nowadays. Or any attempt to control him, for that matter.</p><p>Harry zoned out during most of the conversation happening around the breakfast table, humming and nodding in (hopefully) the right places, keeping himself busy with making more waffles, as he usually did. When he put them on the table, he invariably leaned over Draco’s shoulder, using it a an excuse to squeeze his shoulder, right at the base of his neck, just a little too tight, to see if some of the blushing would return. The third time he did this, he noticed the picture of Draco and some bloke exchanging dirty kisses in a club in the Prophet, and his hand stiffened into a death grip. He distantly noted that Draco went perfectly still, Luna was looking at them with her head tilted sideways as if she saw nargles swarming around them, and Hermione was ranting about archaic pureblood prejudice, while he tried in vain to send a signal to his hand to let go. He could feel a burning heat in his chest, struggling to breathe and not being able to look away from the picture, even though his vision was starting to blur. Then, Dean snatched up the paper to check the sports pages, and Harry snapped out of it.</p><p>He was wondering what it meant, that being confronted with Draco-no-longer-Malfoy, of all people, made him feel more alive than anything had in ages.</p><p>#</p><p>Draco was still a bit overwhelmed by all the noise surrounding him, and the speed with which things were happening. Just an hour ago, he was asleep in his bed in the manor, heir to a powerful family that needed to do a lot of damage control after the war, but that was still plenty rich and well-connected, resigned to a future of working hard, keeping up appearances, marrying a pureblood wife and siring an heir, all in the hope of parental approval. Now, he had nothing; no name, no money, no duties, no hope of marrying well and no inclination whatsoever to give a rat’s ass about his father’s opinion of him ever again. Nor did he have friends, except for Pansy, but he knew her parents would make her stay away from him, now that he was a social pariah. For now, he was at the mercy of a bunch of people he would no longer call enemies, but definitely not friends either, and who had every reason to resent him. </p><p>So, he tried for the perfect balance of reason, politeness and gratitude that hopefully would assure him the help he depended upon until he landed on his feet, three trades with which he’d had a lot of practice as an intern lately. But it was a thin veneer at best, as what he felt inside was chaos and panic. Which was still heaps safer than reflecting on the effect to Potter’s manhandling seemed to have on his body, which he was doing an amazing job of ignoring, which was actually quite impressive, he mentally pat himself on the back.</p><p>“I’m sorry your father reacted to your sexuality that way, Draco, nobody should have to pretend to be someone they’re not to be loved and accepted,” Hermione said. “You can stay here for as long as you need, we’ll just need to figure out a place for you to sleep, as all the bedrooms are currently occupied. Ron and I are sharing, of course, but the others have double beds too.”</p><p>“Not my room, though,” Dean hurried to say, “I’d have even more nightmares if his face was the last thing I see right before I go to sleep.” </p><p>Hermione looked at Luna next, who then proceded to babble about some imaginary creatures that would be disturbed by Draco’s aura, which is why he found himself in Potter’s room after breakfast. Draco wasn’t sure Harry even knew this was what’d been decided, as he’d just hummed a little when it came up, but decided he’d deal with that later. Now, he needed a shower, as he could still smell the sweat, alcohol and smoke machines of last night on his body. He went into the ensuite bathroom and let the hot water pound some of the stress out of his body, resting his bent head against the tiled wall.</p><p>#</p><p>When he came out of the bathroom, towel slung around his waist, trying to get his too long hair into shape without his usual hair potions or wand, Potter was sitting on the bed, his gaze burning into Draco’s eyes when he looked up. Draco opened his mouth to defend his presence in Potter’s bedroom, but Harry spoke first.</p><p>“It’s fine if you stay here as long as you need to figure out what you want to do now, and you don’t need to worry about anything like money or food or clothes. But, we’re going to need some ground rules,” Potter said, in a tone that left no room for argument, and Draco took an inadvertent step back even as relief that he wouldn’t be sent away flooded his body. His knees felt weak, and he tried to meet Potter’s gaze head on, but soon had to look away. Potter looked rather stern and self-assured, like a man instead of the boy Draco remembered, and it was heady. “You’ll stick to your side of the bed, no straying limbs, and no hogging the bed covers. You’ll keep out of my stuff, and you’ll be polite and ask first when you need to borrow something. You’ll do any job I ask you to do, no lazing about, waiting for someone else to pick up after you as you’re probably used to. Lastly, you’ll be nice to my friends and do what they ask of you, too, no insults and no complaints. Is that clear?”</p><p>Oh buggering bogeyman I can hardly keep standing up, Draco thought, Godric knows why this keeps happening at such inopportune times. Potter’s just told him he’d better behave like a properly trained house elf, out of gratitude for finding refuge in his own ancestral house - which Potter would know Draco is actually entitled to, if he’d had any education on how to be the head of a family like the Blacks - and his bloody body decided to respond by making him dizzy with want. He could feel the redness burning on his cheeks and chest, and yes, there it was, his cock was stirring yet again. He felt like he should protest, but wasn’t sure what to address first, and between the shock of this morning’s  events and his leftover hangover from last night, he mind was rather foggy.</p><p>When he started to sway a little, Potter quickly reached out with his seeker reflexes and grabbed his wrist to pull Draco to him, using a firm grip on his hips to steady him when he was near enough. Merlin’s broken broomstick, he’s standing right between Potter’s legs now and his cock is still filling up, not more than two inches in front of Potter’s face, Draco panicked. </p><p>Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Potter was moving his hands down over Draco’s towel clad thighs, until he reached bare skin, and reversed the direction of the movement, under the towel this time. Draco had no clue why he didn’t seem to be able to move or complain, he should not let this happen! Even now that his days of pretending to be straight are over, that’s no excuse for being a total tramp. He was actually quite proud he’d always managed to avoid these sorts of situations so far. He should definitely not let Potter get away with this insanely forward behaviour, totally inappropriate, who does he think he is? Yet, despite his inner voice telling him to wake up and act responsibly, to scream at Potter that he’s no slag, to take charge of the situation, all that came out of him were breathy gasps.</p><p>He was just so, so tired of always worrying about whether he was doing the right thing, whether he was good enough, whether he would make his parents proud and uphold the family name, while never ever feeling like he’s succeeded at any of those things. If Potter wanted to take charge, a deeply hidden part of Draco just wanted to let him, to let himself be powerless and not have to worry about making the right decisions for once. And who knew doing the wrong thing could feel so right?</p><p>Even before this train of thought had had a chance to reach his conscious mind, Potter’s hand was on his balls, pulling on them just a little too roughly, while the other hand softly teased his cock, smearing the copious precum around the tip, and a moan escaped Draco’s mouth. The other man’s steady gaze became even darker, more possessive, with a hint of gleeful disdain at Draco’s obvious arousal. </p><p>“I think you should let go of that towel, as you took it without asking,” he said with a smirk, “which was very rude of you.” Draco hadn’t even noticed he had been gripping the towel to keep it from dropping to the floor or his hands from moving towards Harry’s hair or shoulders without his brain’s permission. He swallowed, if he did this, he would be actively participating in this humiliating, shameful ordeal, and that felt like a massive step from merely letting it happen.</p><p>After several more seconds of staring into Harry’s eyes, which were blatantly challenging him, not playing fair, he carefully started loosening his fingers one by one, until the towel dropped to the floor. Though he felt mortified, exposing his naked, aroused body to his once rival sitting calmly on the bed, fully clothed and seemingly entirely composed, he couldn’t have stopped this for all the gold in Gringotts. Being this turned on was worse than imperio, and people should not be held accountable for what they did in the throes of passion, if you asked him now. </p><p>He wondered what would happen next, as his hand moved to Harry’s shoulder. “No touching!” Harry growled, accentuated by a sharp pinch of his sensitive ball sack, and then, just like that, Draco was coming, thick spurts of cum landing on the floor between them. “Oh Merlin” Draco groaned as he collapsed painfully to his knees, all strength leaving him after the built up tension of the last hours was released from his body in the most intense orgasm he ever had. Now that the arousal was waning, shame took it’s place.</p><p>When he finally rucked up the courage to look up, after what felt like minutes of an ever more deafening silence, Harry met his eyes with a cold stare, and said: “I forgot a rule before: you will clean up after yourself in this house.” Confused, Draco looked down at his spunk, suddenly remembering he had no wand on him when he was kicked out of the manor. He started to reach for the towel, but Potter tutted and said: “Have you already forgotten the rule about not taking things without asking first?”. Draco opened his mouth to ask, only to be shut down by Potter’s next remark: “I think you should lick it up.” </p><p>Then, without looking back if Draco would comply, he got up and left the room, taking with him the last bit of dignity Draco had left. He sat there for a long time, staring at the evidence of his weakness, wondering if there was anything left of him that he could recognise at all, and nothing to distract him from these thoughts.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I promise Harry's not as dark as he seems here, he's just caught up in something new to him..</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Clothes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry, panicking more than a little, but trying not to show it, stalked out of his room and through the halls of Grimmauld Place until he was outside, in his unkempt backyard that was starting to resemble the Forbidden Forest at this point. Once he was out of sight of nosey friends, he sunk down on a tree trunk, his heavy breathing and spinning mind too much for his shaky legs. What had he done just now?</p><p>When he’d finally caught on that Malf.. , no Draco, was assigned to stay in his own room, he’d felt annoyed about having to sacrifice his one private space in his own bloody house, and for a git that had never even once been nice to Harry since he’d known him. Why couldn’t one of the others do that, wasn’t he entitled to some privileges after all he went through, he’d thought, disgruntled. </p><p>He’d soon resigned himself to his fate though; he wasn’t the type to burden his friends with this if he could help it, and he did feel responsible for the guests in his house. So, he’d decided the logical thing to do was to make sure the uninvited house guest knew his place and his duties, ascertain he wasn’t going to stomp around demanding all sorts of luxury he was no doubt used to at the manor, and would not cause Harry too much inconvenience.</p><p>He went up to his room to do just that, but when he’d seen Draco come out of the ensuite in nothing but a towel, looking all fragile and lost again, hair flopping down over his eyes, shoulders tense, he’d felt that jolt of thrilling anticipation again, that interest in life that had been missing for so long now. At the moment he’d been spotted, Draco’s whole demeanour had become defensive and stiff, and the part of Harry that contained this newfound interest didn’t like that at all. It seemed to be more inclined to take action than the rest of Harry was, which meant his planned speech had come out rather forceful, aiming to get Draco to lose his composure. </p><p>It worked wonderfully, and when he saw that delightful, telling twitch (since when did he think of erections as delightful?), Harry grabbed his chance to get the soft, pliant version of Draco back. The one that wasn’t worried about his future or his parents or appearances. The one who couldn’t help but melt at a firm hand and go where Harry guided him, who was a bit skittish perhaps, but not enough to fight his instinct to stay when Harry got a hold on him. The one who was Harry’s.</p><p>And it had worked, it had been so easy, come so naturally to Harry. He’d studied Draco for so long, that even though this side of him was something Harry had never been privileged to see before, he could still read him like a book, play him like a fiddle, make him let go. And Harry had wanted to make him let go, had wanted to make him forget everything about the ruins of his old life, to eradicate the old Malfoy and let Draco be born again as a brand-new person, just like Harry had been. He’d wanted him not to worry, not to feel shame about who he really was. Harry had wanted, needed, to keep the slightly shaky boy in front of him safe from both the world and his own mind filled with judgments and pureblood bigotry.</p><p>Besides that, Harry had to admit, part of him had wanted to own Draco, now that it seemed that he could. It was about time he had something of his own, something totally his, to use as he pleased, something that no-one could ever take away from him like so many loved ones had been, like Hedwig had been. He still had Ron and Hermione, he supposed, but even they belonged to each other more than Harry, now. He was so excruciatingly alone, despite his friends, despite his fame, it was unbearable. But if he allowed himself to get attached, he’d run the risk of losing, and that risk was unbearable too.</p><p>Therefore, after Draco had come so beautifully undone by his words and hands, and Harry felt the rush of mine reverberating through his entire body, this was immediately followed by a tidal wave of dread that froze him to his bones. He’d lashed out on Draco, to protect himself, to push Draco away perhaps. That’d probably worked, Morgana, he’d been horrid to him and could only hope Draco would not ever tell Hermione about what Harry’d done. He put his hands in his hair, not calmed down yet at all, and tried to tell himself it would be for the best if Draco never came within ten feet of him ever again, and that Harry would let him keep his distance. He almost believed it.</p><p>#</p><p>Draco didn’t know how long he sat on the floor before he got over the daze he was in, and anger made him rise up to his feet again. Bloody Potter could go fuck himself for all he cared, he was not going to lick his come up off the floor. He’d never considered actually doing it for one second, no way. He used some toilet paper to clean it up, but only because he didn’t like having to look at it, being confronted with the sad remains of his first sexual encounter with a man, which he had no desire to dwell on. He decided that pretending it didn’t happen was definitely the best way to go, and started rummaging through Potter’s closet to find something to wear. Why did the oaf only have baggy pants and hoodies Draco wouldn’t be seen dead wearing? </p><p>“Oh, there you are,” a floaty voice said, “I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for in there, you know.”</p><p>Great, now Luna’d seen his bum, too, as he hadn’t dared pick up the towel again for some reason. “What do you suggest, then? I’m not wearing Dean’s clothes for another minute,” he replied, trying to pretend his nudity didn’t bother him. She didn’t seem perturbed in the least.</p><p>She looked at him with her slightly hazy gaze, seeming to see things he definitely couldn’t. “I have something in my room that you’ll like, come,” she said and started pulling him by the hand.</p><p>He felt torn between protesting his nudity and putting the towel back around his waist before he deigned to step out into the hallway, and braving the chance of his bits being seen by yet another of Potter’s friends just so he could continue his implicit claim he was comfortable with nudity. In the end, he was too late to act and was forced to go with the latter. Luckily, they arrived in Luna’s room unseen. Luna began rummaging through her decidedly colourful closet, filled with outlandish dresses and accessories that could easily be Halloween costumes. He opened his mouth to say he’d be fine choosing something from Potter’s closet, when she turned around triumphantly, holding out a pair of shimmering, dark grey leggings and an oversized, knitted cardigan in a mix of charcoal and teal cotton blend. </p><p>His jaw dropped at the extravagant combination she so enthusiastically held in front of him, and to his horror, he found he wanted to try it on. He would have never considered wearing anything like this before, but now that his father’s opinion no longer mattered, there was no longer any real reason he couldn’t experiment, was there? He stretched out his hand to accept the clothes as if in a dream, waiting for something bad to happen, but nothing did.</p><p>When he looked up, Luna was rummaging through her drawers and came up with lacy thongs she expanded a bit in the front with her wand. At his flabbergasted look, she explained: “You don’t want any pant lines showing through your leggings, that’s just silly. Go on, try them on!” </p><p>Draco swallowed, figured he had nothing to lose any more at this point, and proceeded to do just that. Once the leggings were on, they felt very smooth and sensual against his skin, almost like his usual silk boxers and bespoke pants used to do, but tighter, like he was hugged, held together. They reminded him of Potter’s firm grip actually, and though the thought caused a frisson of fear to travel up his spine, it made him feel warm inside as well.</p><p>Luna stood in front of him holding a satin camisole that matched the colour of the leggings, more lace at the top, but subtle, and beamed at him. “We have the same build and colouring,” she said with a smile, “I knew this would work on you.” </p><p>When Draco’d caught glimpses of himself in the mirror while dressing, he hadn’t dared to really look, feeling giddy and nervous enough just thinking about how he must look. But, with the camisole and cardigan in place, he had no excuse to avoid it any longer. “Oh,” was all that came out of him. He looked like a totally different person, softer, more fun, more free as well. No burden of meeting his father’s or society's expectations of a young wizard of influence and stature, no armour to hide his sexuality, and no hiding his body much either. He kept staring, slowly starting to feel he could actually be this person he saw in the mirror, maybe. </p><p>“You look much better now,” Luna said as she looked into his eyes through the mirror, “almost as true as without clothes, don’t you think?” Her eyes were clear for once, not dreamy or gazing like into the distance as usual, and Draco felt being the focal point of her attention like a physical sensation. Then, she looked away, tilting her head as if listening to something, and left him standing there after mumbling something about plimpies and the bath on the third floor.</p><p>#</p><p>When Harry went inside again, the kitchen was empty, but when he was in the midst of making tea, he heard Draco walk in, barefoot still. “Tea?” he asked, without turning around, hoping Draco would be willing to pretend nothing had happened.</p><p>“Yes, please,” Draco said finally, his voice croaky, after Harry had held his breath for what seemed like hours. Harry breathed out, relieved they would pretend to be normal not-quite-friends for a bit longer. But when he turned around, holding two mugs of tea, he froze again suddenly, as if someone had stupefied him. Sweat began to trickle down his back, his newly found possessive part roaring inside his chest, and his conscious mind seemed unable to process what it was seeing. 

The person standing in the ray of warm sunlight that shone through the kitchen window was not Draco Malfoy, at all. This was a new person, a strange blend between a muggle free spirit and wizarding fabrics and tailoring, the feminine touches somehow enhancing his masculinity like his suits never could, one of his square shoulders on display where his cardigan had slipped down a little. Harry didn’t know this person, or anyone like them, but he knew that if he’d seen them in a park or something, he would have wanted to get to know them. Or, perhaps, it wasn’t really about his looks. Maybe the important thing was that this seemed to be such a radically new side of Draco that Harry was floored by the possibility of there being a sheer infinity of aspects still left to discover.</p><p>“Ehm,” Draco said uncertainly, gesturing to the table.</p><p>“Oh, right,” Harry unfroze, finally, and put down the mugs. “Please, take a seat.” To his silent horror, he then went on to pull out a chair for Draco to sit down on, like he was some lady Harry needed to show he did have manners. Why did he do that? What would Draco think of him?</p><p>Draco sat down, looking bemused, but said “Thank you, Potter,” nonetheless.</p><p>“Harry,” Harry said. </p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“Call me Harry.”</p><p>“Okay, thank you, Harry,” Draco said, pitched more like a question than a statement. The long, pale fingers of his left hands started fidgeting with his sleeve, his right hand curled around the mug as if to soak in the heat.</p><p>“I can’t call you Malfoy or Black, so…” Harry started to continu. He was not good at small talk, never had been, but was even worse since the final battle. “Did you find clothes, then?” he went on.</p><p>“Yeah, Luna gave them to me,” Draco said defiantly, seemingly worried Harry would claim he didn’t ask first.</p><p>Harry silently groaned and berated himself for letting his inner brute take charge like that, before. “They’re very nice,” he tried to salvage the situation, only to find the look Draco gave him at that made him sweat even more. Luckily, he didn’t blush easily.</p><p>“Thanks,” Draco finally replied, apparently satisfied Harry was being sincere.</p><p>They sat in silence, after that, drinking their tea, Harry not daring to speak anymore. When Draco was done and got up to leave, though, he grabbed his wrist again without thinking. Draco didn’t move, but Harry could feel his pulse start to race. He should let go, but, he didn’t. </p><p>“Isn’t there something you should ask for? Harry asked, “something more you need?”</p><p>Draco’s breath caught, Harry’s subconscious reference to this morning clearly picked up by him, and he swallowed. “I don’t think I will, thank you,” he said stiffly, his jaw set all stubborn and chin held high.</p><p>Oh, this wouldn’t do, Harry thought and got up too, crowding Draco against the table. “No?” he pushed, “You don’t need anything from Diagon Alley for instance?” Harry knew Draco had no wand and would need one come Monday if he wanted to get into the ministry to go to work.</p><p>“No,” Draco said defiantly, his voice slightly high and breathless now, “I don’t think I do.” </p><p>Stubborn git. Harry glared, still holding Draco’s wrist tightly, like it was a normal thing to do. He took a step closer, almost pressing their chests and noses together, and pinned Draco with his stare, looking for a sign of surrender. But whether it was caused by lingering resentment over the events of this morning, or reinforced self-confidence because of his new clothes, Draco would not budge. He didn’t retreat or protest either though, Harry’s dark side argued, he could just take what he wanted. But, for some reason, that was not what Harry wanted. He liked Draco standing up for himself when it was not just a mask to hide his vulnerability. He could wait for Draco to come to him and yield willingly, he thought. </p><p>Not too long though, he amended, when he stood in his kitchen after Draco had hastily retreated, still reeling from being close enough to Draco to feel the heat of his body, to smell his natural scent, to hear his breath and notice every little tell that said Draco wanted him back, even though he wasn’t ready to admit to that yet.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi guys, I definitely will continue writing this story, it's fun! </p><p>But covid is not helping, as my young children will have to be homeschooled for at least a month it seems, which reduces my time to work and write tremendously :-(.</p><p>I was wondering if there were any good fanfiction stories set in pandemic times yet, as it's such a weird time to find new love prospects. Do you know?</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, and English is not my first language, so please, be kind!</p><p>My main goal is to practice my story telling technique, plot development and conversations, because I’m also trying to write a novel about losing our firstborn but it keeps coming out as a journal instead of a story...</p><p>Many thanks to LCat and MerelBlackbird for informal beta-ing! All remaining mistakes are my own as much as the characters are not ;-).</p></blockquote></div></div>
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